


Candle in Winter

by shackalacklargebottom



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, ShipGrumps, commanderbang - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:19:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shackalacklargebottom/pseuds/shackalacklargebottom
Summary: Prompt: A fairytale with your ship of choice.Holly swallowed, hard, sure that her pounding heartbeat would wake the sleeping stranger in her bed. Trembling, she held the chamberstick and flickering candle aloft, and crept closer to the curtained four-poster where she’d been lying just moments ago. She took a deep, measured breath, exhaling as slowly and silently as she could, and steadied herself.Holly pulled back the deep blue curtain…***It had been a bitter, cold night when the white bear appeared.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a bitter, cold night when the white bear appeared.

Holly’s father answered the door, and in the bear had come.  _Give me your daughter_ , said the bear, white fur glowing orange by the meager firelight,  _and I will make you rich._

Give her? As if she were a possession, something to be bartered with, sold? Holly had refused, indignant. The bear promised her safety, and echoed his promises of gold and good fortune for her family. Her mother stared at the floor, her father said nothing.

Holly looked to their drawn, gaunt faces and tattered clothes. She thought of her father’s pitiful harvest, and her mother’s cracked, calloused hands working one loaf’s worth of flour into three and four, by some miracle. The frigid wind whistled through cracks in the roof.

Voice shaking, she said, “I will go.”

 _Then come with me_.

***

Holly was certain the castle must be enchanted. The talking bear, for one; but, fires were always lit, but never stoked or tended; floors were swept, shelves dusted, rooms tidied, as if by magic; food and drink were laid out, but never was a servant seen.

The white bear visited, often, and though Holly tried to engage him in conversation, it seemed that speech was difficult.

 _You are safe here_ , he growled.  _Your family is safe and provided for_. His eyes, deep and brown, always seemed so sad. As weeks went on, Holly felt sharper and deeper pangs each time he left.

***

Each night, Holly returned to the bedchamber to which the bear had brought her when she first arrived.

 _You may sleep here_ , he said. The bed was feather-soft, softer than anything she had ever slept on before in her life. She had never had bolsters and quilts so thick and warm, or pillows so fluffy. Smiling her thanks, Holly collapsed onto the bed after their long journey, and slept soundly until morning.

She didn’t notice that she did not sleep alone until the next night.

***

_That again. Please, read that one again._

Holly smiled. Lately, if the white bear was around, she had taken to reading to him aloud in the library. Foregoing a squashy armchair near the fire, she preferred to nestle herself against him instead.

 _Please_? She felt his growling voice through his fur.

“Of course,” she said, “but aren’t you going to tire of hearing the same tale over and over? This one doesn’t even have a happy ending.”

 _The lovers were together, in the end_ , he replied, suddenly growing shy,  _and besides, the one who tells the tale has a voice… sweet as honey._

Holly leaned back against him, glad he couldn’t see her blush, and began again. “Two houses, both alike in dignity…”

***

The second night at the castle, Holly had lain alone in the dark for almost an hour, her drowsy thoughts racing. Was her family alright? How was her father managing the farm work without her? Did-

Someone entered the bedchamber.

Frozen, Holly was still as the stranger pulled back the curtains and carefully climbed into bed. The chamber was black as pitch, and Holly thought to cry out, but something staid her tongue. The white bear had promised her she was safe. The stranger made no move to touch her, and said nothing, and so she lie in anticipation, waiting for something to force her into action, until eventually she fell asleep.

***

“Who are you?” Holly asked. Months had gone by, and she wandered the gardens with the bear at her side.

 _I don’t remember_ , he said, and would say nothing more. His eyes sank back again, deep into sadness. Holly reached out and laid a hand on his great shoulder, nearly unable to reach. He looked to her once, and then away.

“Why am I here?” she asked, more quietly, but still he said nothing.

They walked on for a time until they came upon a bush of roses, and Holly brightened.

“Here it is! This is what I wished to show you,” she said, excitedly. Carefully pulling back the branches, she revealed a nest of small, peeping baby birds. The bear stepped back, shrinking his hulking mass as much as he could, and watched, rapt, as Holly slowly coaxed one of the fledglings onto her finger. It regarded her for a moment, then burst into song. She listened politely, then carefully placed it back in the next and applauded it gently, laughing. Holly turned to the bear, sunlight gleaming on her hair, beaming.

 _Magical_ , he said.

Later, that night, as she awaited her strange bedfellow, she thought how funny it was that, in a castle full of magic, he had chosen that moment to describe so.

***

Candles would not stay lit, it seemed, and for whatever reason, Holly could not bring herself to simply speak to the stranger that entered the bedchamber each night.

Over the last few weeks, she had lit a candle each night before putting herself to bed, in hopes of catching the stranger, but each night their appearance was announced by the flame suddenly flicking out.

In truth, Holly could no longer fall asleep without knowing the stranger was there. They had yet to touch her, or say anything as they entered, but the weight shifting on the other side of the bed had become oddly comforting. Still, she mused, as the stranger climbed into bed in the dark, she was curious…

***

 _You miss them_.

Holly bit her lip. The bear had known, somehow, that her family had been on her mind. The question, unspoken, must have shown on her face, because the bear continued.  _You do not eat. Your eyes… you sleep fitfully. You must see them_.

“I can’t leave,” she said, and then teased, “Who will read to you, and keep you safe?”

 _You may go_ , he said,  _because I trust you will return_.

_Three days._

***

Holly’s mother pressed the candle into her hand as she left.

“I bought this from the woman at the edge of the wood,” she said, breathless. “I told her your tale, of the candles that won’t stay lit, and the castle that tends itself, and the stranger in bed. She said this, this will illuminate any darkness.” Her mother bit back tears. “Please, don’t go.”

“I promised him,” Holly said, and stopped herself from finishing  _and I miss him, besides_.

As she journeyed back, she felt the candle poking her in the back through her satchel.

***

The bear was in the garden when she returned, watching the chicks tumble from the nest one by one and clumsily claw through the air. Hearing her approach, he turned, his brown eyes lit from within.

 _I knew you would return_ , he said, and though he was unable to smile, Holly heard it in his voice. She watched him watch the babes learn to fly, and wondered who was prisoner to whom.

***

She did not light the candle on the first night she was back, nor the second. Weeks went by before the thought to use it had eaten her too much to ignore.

It seemed such a breach of trust.

Winter had come again, earlier in the week, and the stranger shivered beside her. Holly could stand it no longer. She waited until the stranger’s breathing was shallow and even, sure they were asleep, and then pulled the bolster back and got out of bed. She went to her satchel, digging deep in the bottom for the candle, forgotten, and a match. It took her many tries to light, for the match did not seem to want to stay lit, but finally the flame took to the wick. Holly held her breath… and still the candle burned.

Holly swallowed, hard, sure that her pounding heartbeat would wake the sleeping stranger. Trembling, she held the chamberstick and flickering candle aloft, and crept closer. She took a deep, measured breath, exhaling as slowly and silently as she could, and steadied herself.

Holly pulled back the deep blue curtain and drew the candle inside. The golden glow illuminated a tumbling mass of brown curls, and a long, lean form. The stranger rolled over to face her, still childlike, peacefully asleep. His features were long, aristocratic, and angular, like the rest of him, and he had a scar over one brow which only served to somehow humanize him, attract him to her even more. His hand flexed almost imperceptibly as he slept, seeming to reach toward where she should be. Holly’s heart skipped a beat. She leaned closer to examine him further-

-and wax, which had pooled hot in the bottom of the chamberstick, spilt onto his nightshirt.

The stranger woke with a start and a low cry, and Holly nearly dropped the candle entirely, for his eyes, staring back at her now, blown wide in the dark, were the sad, sleepy brown eyes of her white bear.

“No, no, what is this?” moaned the stranger, reaching out to grasp her wrist. “How did you come by this?”

Before Holly could answer, a cold wind stirred in the bedchamber, whistling into a shrill scream. Holly swore it sounded triumphant.

“Three more days,” said the stranger, “three more days, and then a full year it would have been, and I would have been free.”

“Free from what?” asked Holly, “what happens now?”

The stranger’s eyes grew distant. “I was cursed with the form of a white bear. At midnight I regain my true form and memory until sunrise, but unless I could share my home and life with a maiden for one full year, I could not truly be free. She was not to look upon my human face, otherwise…”

The wind grew stronger and colder. “Otherwise?” Holly asked, urgently.

“Otherwise I am hers to marry,” said the stranger. “She’s coming for me now, who placed this curse upon me.”

“I must stop this. It’s my fault,” pled Holly. “Who is she? Where is she taking you?”

“To the kingdom east of the sun, and west of the moon,” he replied, “and that is as much of it as I know.” The candle began to flicker and die.

“No,” Holly cried, over the roaring wind. “Please- wait! I don’t even know your name!”

“Daniel,” he said, “my name is Daniel, Holly, and I-”

The wind shook the castle to its very foundation, and the candle sputtered out, and from one blink to the next Holly found herself in a pool of moonlight in the midst of the snowy forest, and she was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: a fairy tale with your ship of choice
> 
> She wept, and wept, and when she had wept until her eyes were dry, she sat in thought and misery. East of the sun, and west of the moon. She thought of Daniel’s eyes, so startled and wide, when he had cried out. She had caused him so much pain…
> 
> “How can I find a kingdom east of the sun and west of the moon?” she murmured. At that moment, the silvery clouds above her parted, and the Moon herself spoke.
> 
> travel south, to a mountain made of ice  
> there lies inside one who may help you, child

Holly wept, the cold wind tugging at her nightgown. The white bear was gone, the castle was gone. Daniel was gone.  
  
She wept, and wept, and when she had wept until her eyes were dry, she sat in thought and misery.  _ East of the sun, and west of the moon. _ She thought of Daniel’s eyes, so startled and wide, when he had cried out. She had caused him so much pain…

“How can I find a kingdom east of the sun and west of the moon?” she murmured. At that moment, the silvery clouds above her parted, and the Moon herself spoke.

_ travel south, to a mountain made of ice  
_ _ there lies inside one who may help you, child _

Holly looked to the moon, full and glowing in the winter sky, setting just south of west. She set her mouth in a grim, determined line, and took her first step south.

***

For miles and miles Holly walked, until she came upon a huge mountain of ice and snow. As she traveled up the mountain, shadowy figures loomed at her periphery; monstrous creatures, frozen solid just beyond the path. Each one was more grotesque than the last, and, shivering, Holly steeled herself as she reached the summit.

When at last she climbed the peak, Holly found the open mouth of a cavern, jagged with stalactites and stalagmites. She entered the cave and ventured deep, deep inside. As the pinprick of light from the entrance grew smaller and smaller behind her, Holly swore the air around her was growing warmer. Indeed, the further she traveled into the heart of the mountain, the cavern walls began to pulse and glow with heat.

Holly’s skin was burning, and she wiped the sweat from her brow, but she pressed on until she came to a vast chamber of fire. In the center lie a great Salamander, who fixed her with one round, yellow eye.

Gulping, Holly said, “Can you help me?”

The Salamander blinked once, and replied “You seek the kingdom east of the sun and west of the moon.”

“Can you tell me how to find it?”

The Salamander shook its head. “I know everything in the heart of the world. I know what is in your heart, and in the heart of the prince. I know your hearts are breaking. But,” and it flicked its forked tongue, for effect, “this kingdom does not lie within the fiery heart of the world I know. I’m afraid I cannot help you.” Holly hung her head, but she would not cry. The Salamander gently lifted her chin with one claw “But I know of someone who can. Keep going, and on the other side of the mountain you will find a horse tied with a satchel. Inside is a tinderbox. You may keep the flint and tinder, but when the horse has brought you as far as it can, tap it three times on the left ear and it will return to me.”

The Salamander curled slowly in on itself, humming contentedly upon the toasted coals, and Holly continued past, through the chamber, past the glowing walls, until she felt the cool breeze on her skin once more. At the other side of the passage, Holly looked out over the mountain, and saw the horse calmly waiting for her. She checked the saddlebag for the tinderbox, and the horse rode off.

***

For miles and miles Holly rode, until she came to the edge of a vast forest. The horse paused, and she dismounted, tapping it three times on the left ear. Holly held the tinderbox to her heart as she watched the horse turn and trot away, then took her first steps into the wood.

She walked for what seemed like years, until the dappling moonlight through the leaves showed as no more than tiny pinpricks on the forest floor. The darkness was so thick as to be suffocating. In a tiny voice made smaller by night, Holly whispered, “Can you help me?”

A voice like the rustling wind through treetops replied, “You seek the kingdom east of the sun and west of the moon.”

“Can you tell me how to find it?”

The moon appeared, through a growing gap in the trees, as an expansive oak slowly bent its creaking trunk to inspect her more closely. “I know everything in the body of the world. I know what is in your body, and in the body of the prince. I know your bodies call to each other. But,” and a few acorns dropped from its branches, “this kingdom does not lie within the body of earth and stone I know. I’m afraid I cannot help you.” Holly’s chest tightened, but she would not cry. Creaking and popping, the oak settled back into place. “But I know of someone who can. Keep going, and at the edge of the forest you will find a unicorn, the last of her kind, tied with a sheath and quiver. Inside are a bow and arrows. You may keep those, but when the unicorn has brought you as far as she can, tap her three times on the left ear and she will return to me.” 

The oak sighed, and stilled, and spoke no more, and Holly walked until the rose-gold glow of sunrise shone thick and misty through the leaves. At the edge of the forest, she found the unicorn calmly waiting for her. She checked the sheath and quiver for the bow and arrows, and rode off.

***

For miles and miles Holly rode, until she heard the patient roar of the ocean. The air grew hot and thick, and at last they reached the water’s edge. Holly slid off, and tapped the unicorn three times on the left ear. She did not watch the creature go, as she had pulled up her skirts and was wading ankle-deep into the tide; Holly had never seen the sea.

She walked the shoreline for many miles, marveling at the sunlight playing on the waves, when the pull became rough and unsteady. Shielding her eyes, she looked out into the bay and saw a great, jade-green fish staring out at her with eyes like ocean glass.

“Can you help me?” Holly said.

“You seek the kingdom east of the sun and west of the moon,” burbled the fish.

“Can you tell me how to find it?”

White foam rose up to her knees, just dipping the edge of her skirt, as the fish swam closer. “I know what is in your blood, and in the blood of the prince,” said the fish, “and I know that your blood yearns to flow as one. But,” and it blinked slowly, “this kingdom does not lie within the veins of salt and water that I know. I’m afraid I cannot help you.” Holly blinked back tears, and shed them, though she did not cry in earnest. The fish undulated its shimmering tail and said, “But I know of someone who can. Come, sit on my back, and I will take you to him.”

Holly held her pack high, wading deep out into the water, and climbed on the fish’s back, and together they swam off.

***

For miles and miles they swam, until the sky changed and the air grew cold and sharp and huge floes of ice began to appear all around them. Upon one of these the fish deposited her, gifting her one shining scale from its back, and then disappeared beneath the blue-black waves. 

She waited until the little island of snow came close to another, drifting by on the waves, and then leapt across, traveling slowly but surely. The further she went, the more the wind tore at her clothes, roared in her ears, burned her face, pulled her hair. Finally, shouting, shouting over the force of the wind, her voice almost lost, she said, “Can you help me?”

The North Wind quieted at once, to a small, peaceful breeze, which replied in a voice, robust and quick: “You seek the kingdom east of the sun, and west of the moon.”

“Can you tell me how to find it?”

“I know everything in the mind of the world,” mused the wind, thoughtfully. “I know what is in your mind, and in the mind of the prince, and I know that your minds share but one purpose. I can tell you how to find the kingdom east of the sun and west of the moon, but I can just as easily take you there.”

The wind picked up again, louder, faster, stronger and more insistent than before, and Holly was carried high into the air, arms spread and laughter joyous as she brushed the clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "East of the Sun, West of the Moon," by Mercer Mayer, and by "East," by Edith Pattou.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The western sun was rising orange in a bloody sky, and Holly was staring up at a craggy and ugly castle. It seemed to have been carved directly out of one mountainous lump, more for whatever purpose the inhabitants needed at the time than out of any sense of beauty or design.
> 
> The final part of the prompt fill "A fairy tale with your ship of choice".

For miles and miles the wind carried Holly, until the air began to tang with a new, bitter taste, and the sky slipped into colors Holly didn’t have names for. 

 

“We’re almost there,” she heard the wind murmur, and slowly she felt herself sinking lower and lower, until finally, gently, she touched solid ground again.

 

The western sun was rising orange in a bloody sky, and Holly was staring up at a craggy and ugly castle. It seemed to have been carved directly out of one mountainous lump, more for whatever purpose the inhabitants needed at the time than out of any sense of beauty or design.

 

“Here I must leave you, but keep going. Inside, you will find what you seek,” whispered the wind, and, with an affectionate ruffle of Holly’s hair and a soft thud, it was gone. Holly looked down to see what the wind had dropped - stooping, she picked up a small wooden flute, curiously carved. Depositing the flute into her satchel, Holly set her shoulders and strode up the narrow path to the castle door.

 

She knocked three times. Yawningly, the door swung open, revealing a troll servant so ugly Holly’s tongue caught at the back of her mouth.

 

“I am just a poor girl looking for work,” she said, haltingly, and the troll grinned.

 

“I will take you to the princess,” said the troll, with a leer. “She will know what to do with you.”

 

Holly followed through the labyrinthine castle. Each troll she encountered was more hideous than the last. When finally she arrived at the throne room, at the foot of the troll princess, Holly was sure she had gone delirious from fright, because never had she seen a creature so evil it poisoned their appearance - but there the princess sat, regal and terrible and grinning cruelly.

 

“She wants work,” mused the princess, in a voice like volcanic glass raked across slate. “Very well. Get to scrubbing floors, you ugly thing. Clean everything except for the room behind the door with the golden handle.”

 

With that, Holly was set to work. She wiped windows until her arms ached, and swept until her palms were ragged with splinters, and scrubbed floors until her nails bled. She combed the first floor, but Daniel was nowhere to be found. Finally she found a door with a bronze handle, and behind it a set of stairs, and she moved on to the second floor.

 

She swept, and the trolls threw ashes on the clean floor; she scrubbed, and the trolls swiped their open filthy palms across the windows; she raked hearths and made beds, and the trolls pulled her hair and tore her clothes. As she cleaned, even in her misery, Holly had an odd sense of familiarity, as though she had walked the palace chambers before. She combed the second floor, but Daniel was nowhere to be found. Finally she found a door with a silver handle, and behind it a set of stairs, and she moved on to the third floor.

 

Holly’s footsteps echoed empty across chamber after chamber, and the dust was so thick it settled in her eyelashes and clung when she coughed. The trolls did not follow her here, and the dark, sumptuous furnishings suggested Holly was in the lair of the princess herself.

 

At the end of one passage, Holly pulled a moth-eaten bolt of velvet from one of the furnishings, intending to shake it out. She caught a flash of motion and turned, half-shrinking - but it was just a mirror. She stepped back and breathed herself in: cheeks rosy from the Salamander’s flame, from the icy wind; lips chapped in thirst, eyes dark in hunger and exhaustion; hair mussed, clothes torn; hands raw. She barely recognized herself; would Daniel recognize her now? Holly shook her head and, as the tiniest of breezes tugged her skirts, kept going. Finally she found a door with a golden handle, and behind it was a decadent bedchamber, and Holly entered quickly and locked the door behind her.

 

The room was frigid - Holly’s breath came in puffs in front of her face - and a block of ice lay upon the bed. She crept closer.

 

Daniel was encased inside.

 

Holly studied him for a moment. His eyes were closed, but he looked pained, not peaceful, in sleep. His hair was a wild halo of curls, and faint stubble dusted his sharp cheeks and angular jaw. One hand was partially outstretched, open, and Holly pressed her palm to it, to the ice. It stung her bloodied skin.

  
  


She got to work. Holly dug the flint and tinder from her pack and, with numb, shaking fingers, set the bedclothes ablaze. The ice began to melt, dripping, trickling, then streaming. The ice shrank, the fire shrank, and at last it seemed Daniel was free.

 

He did not move for a long while.

 

Perhaps he had been frozen too long, Holly braved, though her lip quivered at the thought. She reached out the side of one hand to cup his cheek. He was still and deathly cold, but he stirred and turned his face to her.

 

“Daniel,” she breathed, and he opened his eyes.

 

He stiffened in shock, eyes darting wildly around the room. “Is it,” he croaked, and steadied his voice, “is it happening soon?”

 

“What?” said Holly, to which Daniel replied: “The wedding.”

 

“Wedding?” asked Holly, helping Daniel to sit up. He swayed, and she slipped his arm around her shoulders.

 

“I am to marry the princess,” he said, mournfully. “Daniel? Is that me?”

 

Holly’s blood ran cold, colder still. “Don’t you remember?” she said, gently, and he shook his head. Holly’s heart sank, but she knew they must escape. She helped him to his feet, although he was weak, and together they crept out the door and through the empty hall.

 

They went through the door with the silver handle, and down, and through the door of bronze, and down, and at last came to the throne room of the princess. All of the trolls were gathered there, great and small, ugly and uglier still, and all of them gasped and rasped in shock as Holly and Daniel entered the room. The princess, on her black dias, went murderously cold.

 

“What is this?” she shrieked, and her voice was like knives in Holly’s ears. “What is the meaning of this defiance?” The princess leapt to her feet and pointed to Holly, preparing for some wicked magic to strike her down, but Holly was too fast. She gathered the bow and arrow from her pack, nocked it, loosed, and shot the princess through the heart.

 

Instantly the princess turned to stone with an earsplitting scream, then crumbled away to dust. The enraged trolls turned on Daniel and Holly, but quick as lightning she sprinted to the dias, pulled the mirror scale from her satchel, and held it aloft. One glimpse of their terrifying reflections, and each of the troll subjects crumbled into ashes as well. Not a single one remained. Daniel and Holly were safe, and they were alone.

 

Holly, having been through quite a bit, sank gratefully into the princess’ throne, and had a rest.

 

Daniel slowly climbed the dias, surveying the empty chamber. His brow furrowed.

 

“I thought once she was gone, I might remember,” he said sadly. He knelt before Holly, took her hand, and kissed her fingers. “But that doesn’t matter. I owe you my life, and give it gladly, for saving me.”

 

Holly smiled, and cupped his cheek once more. She drew the carved flute from her pack and gave it to Daniel. He turned it over in hand, inspecting it, then put the flute to his lips and began to play.

 

Haltingly, at first, but then with growing confidence, Daniel wove an intricate melody, piping life back into the castle. The wind gathered and grew, and blew away the dust and ashes of the lifeless trolls, and the floors changed, and the castle changed - the entire palace transformed into the castle in the forest, the one Holly had lived in with her white bear. The air grew sweeter, and Holly felt strength returning to her poor, beaten body.

 

When at last he was done and the last notes of the song died away, Daniel smiled and flourished the flute before him.

 

“This is mine,” he said, turning it to reveal a name burnished deep into the wood. DANIEL. “I learned to play here, as befits any prince. And you, Holly, my love, are welcome to stay as my queen.”

 

***

 

It took many days and nights for life to return fully to the castle, but in a year’s time it was brimming again with servants, and artisans, and nobles, and beautiful things - though not much changed for Holly and her white bear. She noticed, on the night they were married, he still got into bed gingerly, as if he were afraid to wake her, but she pulled him to her and kissed him seriously. He needn’t have worried.


End file.
